Smoke and Ashes

Summary: Tori is middle-aged and in a rut. Her life is dull, the most exciting thing in it her cat, Moggs, until her stalker turns her life around and upside down so she can embrace her true identity.

Chapter 1

Struggling
to collapse her sopping brolly, Victoria ‘Tori’ Brown
raced as fast as her ballet pumps would carry her. Late for
the train again, squeezing past fellow commuters with a mumbled
‘sorry’, or ‘’scuse me’, she hadn’t even had a chance to
snatch her habitual coffee for a much-needed caffeine hit.
Sidestepping a tourist squinting at the map of the Underground, she
managed to ignore his plea for assistance, and launched onto the
escalator behind two teen girls, unsettling an elderly man and his
dog when she crammed in front of him.

The
kids were wagging school, skirts up their backsides and, tuning
half-heartedly into their conversation; she allowed
the topic to wash over her – ‘he never said that, did he?’
‘Yeah’. Emphatic nodding followed and raucous laughter, whispers
behind a hand… ‘He did so… this long… I swear’.

Interest
piqued, Tori’s ears perked; overhearing smut on the way into work
made the travel more interesting than usual, but the girls peeled
off, disappearing in another direction.
Disappointed, Tori made for the Victoria Line, and the
pursuing, unsettled edginess hammered a tattoo in her head and guts.
It had come back, her recurring
dream of watchers, the vile, creeping sensation they brought, as if
they peeled her skin from her flesh. A cold sweat woke her last
night; her quilt kicked into a tangled heap, and with it came the
inevitable lack of sleep. If she could get past the feeling something
waited to leap at her from the shadows, she might have been able to
get some rest, but no.

Oh
and the lights that pulsed just at the fringe of her vision; they
were back too. Except whenever she tried to focus on the damn things,
they disappeared in a puff of smoke, leaving her baffled. Not exactly
new found territory for her, being disorientated, but this horrible
jittery crap made her sick as a dog, and tetchy with all and sundry.
Which brought her back to the dream, because those lights figured in
her dream and current misery in a pretty sizable way. They had a
starring role, if truth were told, so the dodgy goings on of two
nubile schoolgirls paled into insignificance in comparison.

Even
after a drunken binge when she’d sunk enough to float the QEII, or
popped the sleeping pills her doctor described as ‘very efficient’,
the dream cropped up, with full on effects of dazzling multi-coloured
glory the morning after. Effective my arse, she thought, bitterly.

Moreover,
her stalker had come back on the scene – as if things couldn’t
get any worse. She chewed it over, what she’d spotted about the
creep who lurked in doorways, flitting into shadows when she happened
to get close. Or rather, what she hadn’t spotted, because he always
disappeared, and she’d called the police, but well… just not
enough evidence, Miss.

The
cops were right, she had squat – just an impression of piercing
eyes, and thick hair curling past his collar. Not the sort of bloke
she drew attention from as a general rule. No, she could count on her
fingers the numbers of eligible bachelors who’d shown an interest
in her over the last six years, and not one of them fitted the pretty
loose description of Mr. Stalker man. Racking her brains proved no
help either, and a list of suspects hadn’t taken shape the way the
fuzz wanted.

Concentrate,
she told herself, angry her chaste nighttime activities wanted to
leach every aspect of her attention from the really important stuff.
Like the daily concern of earning enough to live on.

Somehow,
she found her way onto the train. A fish packed in diesel, sweat, and
steady choking heat; Tori grabbed hold
of a handgrip, shuffling into position, anonymous bodies rammed hard
against her. Somehow another half dozen people managed to push their
way into minuscule gaps as the doors slid shut. Thrown about in a
haphazard fashion when the train started to move,
she swayed to the rhythm of the carriage, the stench of
humanity filling her nostrils. The burgeoning headache gathered
strength. Lights began to flicker at the
periphery of her vision.

Saliva
collected in her mouth, and nausea came with a sudden crash of pain.
Head about to explode, Tori faltered, knees buckling, but just as she
thought she would slide in a pool of vomit down the back of a fellow
passenger, a set of strong fingers supported her elbow. Surprised,
she flinched, and tried to yank away. Held tight, she looked up,
squinting against the unnatural glare of fluorescence.

“You
don’t look well,” a deep voice resonated over her head.

“I’m
okay,” she managed, and gulped as spew made a speedy entry into her
mouth. Thank god they’d be at the next stop in moments. There was
nothing for it; she’d have to call in sick. Even Juicy Lucy, the
office jobs-worth, couldn’t cope with puke, and would come over all
squeamish. Probably enough to climb down from her moral high horse
about never-had-a-day-off-sick-once.

The
train whined to a halt, and she rushed the door, bolting through the
tangle of commuters onto the platform, and
headed for the exit, aware her would-be rescuer followed a
short distance behind. A fresh wave of dizziness attacked with no
warning. Diving for the wall, Tori clung to
the cool tiles, while fighting down nausea.
Mr. Strange hovered at her side and she focussed on his boots.
Brown leather, probably Italian, so no doubt expensive. Amazing how
the possible cost of a pair of shoes could act as a distraction.

“Let
me help you upstairs,” he said. His voice was warm, resonant.

“Thanks,”
she mumbled, the gallop of hooves in her skull still unbearable.
“I’ll be fine.”

“Nonsense,”
he said, and didn’t budge. Even managed to prevent her from being
walked into, though Tori couldn’t quite see how he managed it? It
was weird, the way people streamed past, as if she wasn’t there. A
warp in the space-time continuum perhaps, she wondered idly, and
groaned loudly enough for him to add, “You don’t look fine.”

A
firm grasp took her arm, and unable to break away, she found herself
marched at a brisk pace up the stairs to the not-so-fresh London air.
Cool rain-laden wind brushed through her hair and she gulped
it down, starved for it and the delicious overtones of carbon
monoxide. Mr. Knight-in-rusty-armour’s hand moved to her back.

“Better?”

Somehow,
Tori managed a brisk nod, and took a reviving gasp, the sensations of
sickness and headache receding. One breath, and another, cool, moist,
welcome, the bright spots of colour fading from her vision, and using
the moment, she flicked a glance upwards to sneak a look at her
knight’s mug. Handsome, she decided. Not handsome in the standard
Hollywood way of Jonny Depp or Brad Pitt, but good enough for an old
bird like her to wonder why he’d come to her rescue?

“Do
I know you?” she asked, and tried, politely, to move away from his
rather tall presence. “Thank you anyway, but I think I’ll take it
from here.”

“Oh,
I don’t think so,” he said, and the tone seemed quite cheerful,
as if he hadn’t a care in the world. His hand curled at her waist,
pulling her closer to his side. “I believe -” he murmured, and
the impression of a grin reached her as he bent to her ear – “we
should move somewhere drier. I was thinking coffee might be a good
idea, don’t you?”

“I
was thinking,” Tori said sharply, unhappy she liked the feel of his
arm supporting her, “perhaps I should shout for the cops, or kick
you in the nuts if you don’t let me go.”

“Tori,”
he admonished, and shocked her to silence, “why would you want to
do that, when I’ve just saved your rather splendid ass.”

Saved?
Mouth open, she allowed him to take charge and hustle –
definitely hustle - her along the road, until they reached the
closest coffee shop. Not only that, but he’d called her by name and
said her was ass splendid, which definitely didn’t happen.
Therefore, it meant either impending insanity, she’d gone insane
and hadn’t noticed, or she’d really run into your local
oh-so-friendly sociopath?

“And
don’t think of trying to get away, Tori,” he said, even as the
thought percolated to the top of the jelly between her ears, “because
I need your help.”

“What?”
Weak-legged, Tori allowed herself to be guided into a booth, and he
threw himself into the opposite seat. She focussed on him, sociopath
it was then.

Catching
her arm, he said, “I know this must be a shock, my dear?” Concern
sat easily on his long features, kindness almost palpable. “But I
really do need your help.”

“I
don’t even know you,” she managed at last, groping in her bag,
finding instead a half-eaten packet of mints, three paracetamol, half
a dozen screwed up receipts, and a tampon. Frustrated, Tori glared at
him. “How could I possibly help you?” She continued to fumble
about. Damn the liner, damn it, why hadn’t she replaced the bag
with her new one? She’d only bought it the other day; so important
things wouldn’t get lost. “Why the hell would I help you?”

“Are
you looking for this?”

Tori
looked up from her search, and sucked back a breath. Black and shiny,
her personal alarm dangled from his elegant fingers before he placed
it on the table between them. It sat there, accusing, and she stared
at it before taking her hand out of her bag. She clenched it until
she felt her nails bite into the skin of her palm, and then slipped
it into her pocket, the rounded edges of her phone cool against her
fingertips.

“Because,
if you were,” he said, a faint grin curling the corner of his
mouth, “the battery is dead as a dodo, and your phone won’t work
either at the moment.”

“Right.”
Tori chewed her lip, and searched her mind for something else she
could do. Legging it out of the bog window, perhaps, if she could get
past him?

“Oh,
Tori, Tori.” He sounded disappointed. “Is that the best you can
think of, the toilet window?”

A
lump the size of a dinosaur appeared in Tori’s throat, and she felt
the stirrings of a full on panic attack. He couldn’t have? Surely
he hadn’t…? Impossible. Wasn’t it? Did he really just read
her mind?

She
croaked, “How did you do that?”

“Calm
down, you’re quite safe. Why don’t you let me to get you a drink,
and I’ll explain.” Patting her hand, he cocked his head a little,
and appeared to think carefully about what he’d just said. “Well…
Up to a point.”

Too
stunned to do more than nod feebly, she watched his tall figure
stride to the counter. This shit didn’t happen to her, did it? When
did Tori Brown ever get picked up on the tube by an odd bloke with
the Devil’s own knack as a pickpocket? Not to mention a voice like
hot chocolate and gorgeous blue eyes. I’ll tell you when, she
thought, fucking never. Maybe if she closed her eyes, she’d wake
up? Clenching her eyes tight, Tori decided when she next opened them
normality would reign; she’d be on the tube, or in bed. Something
like that. One. Two. Two and a bit… The noise of the shop burgeoned
around her, chatter, chatter, chatter, the click of mugs, cups,
cutlery … Three.

Shit!
So much for that little experiment.

Far
too skinny for someone so tall, she mused, watching him, and she
suppressed the sudden urge to buy him a sandwich, or cake. That might
be going a bit too far, she decided, and folded her hands in front of
her on the table’s surface. Now she was starting to think of him
like a date. Frustrated, Tori jiggled about on her seat, checking out
her surroundings, before he came back with coffee and a big smile.
White, even, the sort of smile that could get a woman into a great
deal of trouble. Problem being most women would follow that smile
without hesitation, right down to Hades. Worse, she hated to admit;
she could add herself to the list.

Setting
the cup down in front of her, he folded into his seat again and
examined her, one arm draped nonchalantly across the back, legs
crossed. “It’s exactly the way you like it.”

Tori
glanced down at her drink, noted the creamy froth and sprinkles of
chocolate. Cappuccino, her favourite. She frowned. Looking up into
stormy blue, she leaned forward a tiny bit. “What the hell is going
on, and who the hell are you?”

“Oh,”
he said, and leaned in too until she could smell his skin, clean,
soapy. “I’m your personal demon.”

Tori laughed. It rolled out of her, a loud snorting guffaw, until she started to choke. All around she could sense the kind of stiff disapproval such behaviour garnered from punters all over the UK. Censure came at her in waves, and that was just from the man opposite. Managing to lift her head up at last, his expression was stony.

“Finished?”
he asked.

“Come
on,” she said. “That’s just ridiculous.”

“Is
it?”

“A
demon?”

“You
all have them.” Arms folded, his face had darkened, the storms in
his eyes crackled lightening. Tori could swear she heard thunder.
“Some have more than others.”

Despite
pretty good evidence he might be an escaped nutter, Tori could see
how seriously he took this nonsense. It wouldn’t hurt to try a
different tack. “Look,” she said, “I’m certain -”

He
made a rude noise, cutting her off at the knees. “Please, don’t
bother to patronise me, Tori.” The clouds in his eyes cleared, and
a rueful grin appeared. “You want proof.”

“You
think?” Tori shook her head, and played with the cup in front of
her. Turning it, she dipped the spoon into the froth and stirred the
chocolate absently. Looking up, she squinted at him. “You have to
admit it doesn’t sound kosher, does it. I mean, who the hell are
you really? No bullshit.”

Disappointment
flashed across his features. “No bullshit, eh?” Sighing, he gazed
through the window, then back to face her. “OK, how is it I know
your name, or you like your coffee exactly that way?”

She
shrugged, and gave him the once over. “Dunno. You’re a STALKER!”

This
comment appeared to please him, as he threw back his head and roared
with laughter, an effect Tori hadn’t expected. A surge of
indignation threatened to overwhelm her better judgement, but she bit
her tongue and resorted to a scowl. “Yes,” he agreed, once he’d
managed to get his amusement under control. “Absolutely I am.”

“You
are so full of shit.”

Reaching
across the table, his large hand covered hers. “Without a doubt,”
he said. “So let me take you home and I’ll tell you about magic.”

“Two
chances,” Tori said, firm as rock. “None, and eff all.”

Sighing,
he glanced out of the window, gave a soft hiss, and faced her again,
every scrap of humour leached from his face. A shimmer moved over his
eyes, and for a second she thought she saw gold lacing the blue, and
slits for pupils. Then he blinked and it disappeared. “You need my
help too, Tori.”

Curious
to see what had changed his mood so fast, Tori glanced out of the
window as well. On the verges, pigeons milled, no different from any
London borough, though these feathered rats looked sharper. Shiny jet
eyes stared back at her, and Tori suppressed a shiver.

“Need
your help?” she repeated, puzzled, taken aback once the
remark sank in.

“Let
me help you.” That sounded pretty much like a plea as he gazed into
her soul.

“I
don’t even know your name,” she said. Self-preservation kicked
into gear for a second, before being overwhelmed by a sudden urge to
believe him. She made another attempt at common sense. “What do I
call you, apart from weird bloke who whisked me off a train?”

He
narrowed his eyes, and huffed out, “You can call me Ash.”

Write a Review
Did you enjoy my story? Please let me know what you think by leaving a review! Thanks,
G K Vince

Sandra Leigh:
excellent story. Lots of classic fairy tale elements with a fresh spin. Very much looking forward to the sequel. However, there are a number of typos and minor awkward sentences. I occasionally work for my publisher as an editor and would not mind editing this for you. Feel free to contact m...

Alice Liu:
Whoa! I've been wondering how would the Maurauders react to Harry's life and here we go! YOU ARE THE BEST! All the characters are consistent with their personalities shown in the book! I love how you compare Lily with Molly and it's definitely true for her being a mother! I wish Peter comes have ...

Julia Summers PA:
Reading this now. It's fun, hilariously fabulous yet taste of what you desire in a unusual read. I will post an actual review when I am finished. But so far loving the flow and the story seems to keep me drawn

Alex Rushmer:
This was not what I expected, but I enjoyed it a lot Malfoy was always one of the characters that I liked a lot, so I like that a lot of this happens between him and Colette. I read the first couple chapters, and I enjoyed your writing style and am excited to see where you take this story. My com...

Morgan-Leigh Nortje:
A storyline and plot not unlike something George R R Martin would have produced, only with far less tragedy. The stunning story of a young princess who goes into hiding and takes on an epic journey to save her father and her kingdom. With characters that you feel compelled to love and a plot that...

Kayla Wentz:
This book had me hooked from the beginning! I kept coming back for more. It only took me a day to read! I couldn't put it down! Absolutely A-Mazing! This book keep the story going and there's never a dull moment!

Schaelz:
I was intrigued from the second I started reading, and it kept my interest the whole way through. Chelsea has a way with words that will enchant you until the very end. She is very poetic with the way she mixes genres and keeps you on the edge of your seat. The main character is also very relat...

JWalker:
I loved this story from start to finish! It flows at a really nice pace and the story world feels so real. The fight sequences are a treat especially when Isanfyre is training to become a warrior. I found the names really cool and thankfully easy to pronounce. Personally I have always struggled w...

Nymeria:
Really can't get enough of this story. It flows well, it captivates the reader from page 1, and throws you into such a well-written, well conceptualized world that you'll believe it's real. Everything in the book is meshed together really well. From character backgrounds to plot twists, you can t...

MegaRogueLegend666:
I love this story so much. It's impossible to describe my excitement with each new chapter in words. The author has such a good writing style, very good descriptions of the fighting and character descriptions/emotions. the plot is also amazing! This fanfic could be a side anime show or novel ......

PurpleInkling:
Hippocrite is spelt hypocrite.Also it is an awesome story! A good one after so long. I was hoping someone would write a good fanficiton playing off what Ron said at the station. You are doing a remarkable job. It would have been interesting if Albus had also ended up in Ravenclaw though that mig...